"¿Lo que se supone que debo hacer, Mamí?" I shouted into the phone. "No hemos hablado en siete años."

My abuela was dying. Well, that felt like someone dumped a swimming pool full of water on all of the happiness in my life. I felt sick to my stomach, and I told my mother I had to get off the phone. It was there, the same ache under my ribs that I'd felt more than seven years earlier. An ache that would probably always be there. The woman who'd meant so much to me had told me that loving the woman who meant even more was an abomination. And now she was dying. All I'd ever wanted was for her to love me again, and she was dying.

Sitting down on the bed, I pulled my knees to my chest and resisted the urge to start rocking back and forth. If I did that, the tears would come, and I didn't want to cry. Instead, I listened to the sounds in the other room. Brittany singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, the dishwasher running, Annie's tiny gurgling noises, simple pleasures. I wanted to think of something, anything else, but the only place my mind would go was to my grandmother slamming her door in my face.

"Santana, what's wrong?" Concern flooded Brittany's face as she opened the door and looked at mine.

"Nothing. I'm okay." I lied, although I wasn't even sure why. Brittany always saw right through me anyway.

"You're not. You were yelling in Spanish, which means you were talking to your mother. And with one look it you, it's obvious something is wrong." She sat down on the bed and wrapped both of her arms around me. So much for not crying. Silent tears streamed down my face almost immediately, and Britt rocked me gently. She didn't ask me any more questions, she wouldn't until I was ready to talk. I buried my face in her neck and breathed in her smell to try and calm myself down. Her fingers tapped up and down my back as I listened to her heartbeat.

"She's dying, Britt." I finally lifted my face from her neck and looked in her eyes.

"Who?" I could see the alarm in her eyes.

"My grandmother."

"What? How?"

"Apparently her heart is failing. Although I'm actually shocked she has one." I spat bitterly, tears springing up again.

"Oh San, I'm sorry."

"I just..." I paused to catch my breath. "What am I supposed to do, Britt?"

"You know I can't tell you that. Only you can make that decision. But whatever you decide, you know I support you a hundred percent."

In the end, I made the decision I think Brittany knew I would make. I needed to go. Maybe it was stupid, especially since the last words she said to me was that she never wanted to see me again, but I needed to try one last time. I tried to protest Britt coming with me, but I knew it was futile. She'd been there in the aftermath the first time, she knew what it did to me, and she knew I'd need her there again.

The next morning, with what felt like half of our apartment packed (the stress was overtaking me, the only thing that calmed me down was sitting in Annalise's room and making myself useful by figuring out what to bring) we were out on the sidewalk loading it into the car. I kissed Annie softly and tickled her under her chin, breathing in that awesome baby smell before buckling her carseat into the back. Dr. Kellen had insisted it was fine that she traveled, she'd been home three weeks and was two and a half months old, but I still felt nervous. Everything about the situation was unsettling.

"I can drive." Brittany insisted.

"No, it's fine. You hate to drive long distances."

"You hardly slept last night, just let me do something."

"I'm fine." I snapped and got in the driver's seat.

I didn't want to take my anxiety out on Brittany, and I felt terrible as she sat in the passenger seat, staring at her lap. With my left hand on the steering wheel, I took her's with my right and rested them both on my thigh. As I mumbled an apology, she squeezed the exposed skin on my leg and I sighed. This was now the second time driving to Ohio with one of us freaking out in the car.

We were halfway through Pennsylvania before I spoke again. I'd kept my eyes on the road, but listened to Britt talking to Annie, and pulled over wordlessly when I knew she needed to be taken care of. A big part of me was lost in my own head, but there was still a piece that stayed connected to the things that mattered in the here and now. Brittany and Annalise, there was nothing that could take them from me.

"When I was in the hospital, she told my father that she had no granddaughter." I finally admitted, breaking my silence.

Brittany didn't say anything, she knew I wasn't looking for words. Instead, she took the hand that was resting on top of hers and pulled it to her lips, holding it there. It was one of those things she knew how to do, how to make me feel so completely loved with a tiny gesture.

"I don't want you to come to the hospital with me."

"Santana."

"No, Britt. I'm dropping you and the baby at your parents' house. The thought of either of you around her makes me feel physically sick. I have to do this alone."

She didn't protest again, and when we made it to the Pierce's by a little after four, she kissed me goodbye and whispered how much she loved me once more before grabbing the carseat and diaper bag from the back. With one last sad smile on her face, she walked up to the door, and I gave Susan a small wave before backing out of the driveway. My mother-in-law had always understood me in a way that was similar to Brittany, she wouldn't be angry that I didn't even go to the door to say hello, even that was a lot to ask of me in my state of mind.

When I reached the hospital, I hurried upstairs. I hadn't told my parents that I was coming, mostly because I wasn't sure if I'd turn around and go home halfway through the drive. Mamí was sitting outside of the room when I got there and she jumped up and wrapped her arms around me as soon as she saw me standing there. We didn't speak for a while, just stood there, a lot passing silently between us.

"Where's Papí?"

"He's in there with her. This is difficult for him too."

Ever since I was disowned, my father's relationship with his mother had been almost non-existent. He'd tried, for my sake, to get her to come around, but each time he was left even more frustrated. It made me sad, probably even more so that I had a child of my own, thinking about having to choose between your mother and your daughter. But Papí chose me, just as I knew I would do.

"She's not conscious." Mamí told me.

"Since when?"

"Late last night, after I spoke to you. The doctors say it's only a matter of time."

I fought the urge to be sick. In what felt another life, I'd sat on the stage at McKinley and told everyone that I looked forward to the day when my grandmother would love me again. My naive sixteen year old self ignored the fact that Alma Lopez and I had more in common than I'd like to admit, considering. She was stubborn, bitter and never apologized. I didn't want to be like her, not anymore.

"Mija." My father stepped out of the room and I moved from my mother's arms to his. "You didn't have to come. Are you alone?"

"Brittany and Annie are with Susan. I needed to come, Papí, I have to make peace with this. Can I go in?"

"Of course you can." Probably not the answer my abuela would have wanted. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, I need to do it alone."

Walking in the room to the small, fragile woman in the bed was crushing. There was a time in my life where she had been larger than life to me. She was cruel and tough, but I'd loved her and craved her time all the same. Even after everything, how devastated I was by her shunning, I didn't hate her. I hated how she'd treated me, but I still wished all the time that she would change her mind. Unfortunately, I loved her, I wanted her to know the real me.

I thought maybe she would see, after what had happened to me, but it's possible that it fueled her fire, made her believe even more that some things should be kept secret. It wasn't true though, even if I could go back in time (you know, if Brittany really had built a time machine) I wouldn't keep my truth from the world. Although I'd had great suffering, I'd also been gifted with an even greater love. Being in the room with my grandmother threatened to resurface the shame I'd felt at sixteen, but I was surprised when it didn't. I was comfortable with the person I was, and the fact that I was gay wasn't my defining characteristic.

"Abuela." I started, sitting in the chair at her bedside. God, I was so sick of hospitals. "I miss you. I miss talking to you, watching telenovelas and laughing at how ridículo the stories are, but mostly I miss you knowing me. For years, I told you more than I told most people, and I felt like you understood me, I felt like you were so much like me. Until they day you couldn't understand anymore, and you pushed me away. I know what that's like, to try to push something away that's hard for you. I did it to myself for a long time. Then I made progress, with Brittany, but when she was gone, I did it again."

I looked at her expectantly, like my words had some kind of miraculous powers that would wake her from her sleep. They didn't, but I continued anyway.

"I wish you could see, like I see now, that pushing it away doesn't make it not real. We have to embrace things that make us uncomfortable, find comfort there too. That's what I've learned now, and I wish you could too. I wish you could have been there on my wedding day, to see me marry the beautiful, special woman who I'd give my life for. I wish you'd been able to meet my daughter, my perfect, incredible child. Love isn't selective, abuela, and that's what I wish most of all, that you had understood that. I don't think you ever stopped loving me, and I hope that isn't just my wishful thinking. Once you love someone, you love them always, but it was too hard for you to see that there were parts of me you didn't like. Trust me, I know what that's like, it's what I feel towards you. The only difference is, what I don't like about you was a choice, what you don't like about me is not."

My throat felt like it was closing, and I absently ran my fingers over my scars. There was still no response from the sleeping woman before me, obviously, but I hoped somehow she was hearing these things, wherever she was.

"I feel sorry for you, you know. You lost years with your only son, your only granddaughter, because you were stubborn. It scares me that I can be stubborn like you, and I'm working on that. I hope, with all of my heart, that once you've gone from this life, you're able to see the light of things. I told you once before that I'm still me, and it's true, I'm just a better version of myself. I'll always miss you, and I'll never hate you, but I'll always be sad that things weren't different for us. Te amo, abuela. Vay a con dios."

While kissing my grandmother on the cheek, a single tear fell from my eye and landed on her face. Gently, I wiped it away, touching the woman's wrinkled skin for the last time. Quickly, I turned and fled the room, right into the embrace of both of my parents.

Mamí insisted upon driving me home, and I sat in the car as she went up to the Pierce's door to help Brittany with her things. No one said anything as they got back in the car and we drove to my parent's house. Even Annie, who was asleep, didn't make a noise. It wasn't a comfortable silence, it was thick with unasked and unanswered questions. But I couldn't speak, not just yet.

After unloading the car, still in silence, I sat on the stairs in the house and watched Brittany and my mom in the kitchen, making dinner. Such an ordinary thing to do, but I stared anyway. When Annalise started to cry in her carseat, I went to her, undoing the straps and cradling her in my arms. We sat on the stairs together, rocking to an unheard song, me making silent promises to her. She would always find love and acceptance in her life, no matter what.

"Santanita, can I take her?" My mother asked. Right, she had never held her own granddaughter before.

After kissing the top of Annie's blonde head, I passed her to Mamí and felt Brittany sit down on the stairs beside me as I watched. It was beautiful, and so terribly heartbreaking for me to see my mother looking down at her tiny granddaughter, singing to her with eyes full of love. Caracolito, caracolito. Quien te hizo tan chiquitito? It was the same lullaby I'd heard my entire life, but it never affected me like this. I had to look away, so I turned and walked up the stairs, blindly making my way to my bedroom.

Only a few moments passed before Britt came in and lied down on the bed beside me. I pulled her close to me and kissed her, needing to feel her against me. Her hands were on my cheeks, and she forced me to open my eyes and look into hers. It's what I needed most, to see the love that filled them, to feel it pouring into me. She would never allow me to break.

"I. Love. You." She told me between kisses.

"Thank you." I whispered to her. "You always know when I especially need to hear it."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I sighed, maintaining my eye contact with her. I did, and I didn't.

"She's not conscious anymore, so it's too late to hear what I've been hoping to hear from her. I saw her, and it was hard, but I said my piece. I think I'm going to be okay."

"I know you're going to be okay, my strong, beautiful, amazing wife."

"Can you just hold me for a while?"

It wasn't a question I even needed to ask. Brittany hummed against my head, soothing me into a restful state. All the bad shit in the world was completely worth it when you can feel the pure, whole love of another person. I felt a small sense peace begin to fill my body, maybe I hadn't got what I wished for with my grandmother, but there were other wishes that had come true.

Credits:

Caracolito, Folk Song

Spanish Lessons:

¿Lo que se supone que debo hacer?- What am I supposed to do?

No hemos hablado en siete años- We haven't spoken in seven years.

Vay a con dios- Go with God